What a gorgeous autumn it has been. So much warmth and sunshine. Each year when we rake up he season's castoff leaves, it's like revisiting my own childhood. I can see my dad combining piles from all over the front yard beneath the enormous maple, now long gone after a gradual decline. The maple where the swing hung. My sister and I would spend an afternoon tunneling through them, tossing handfuls, burying each other.
There is something about it that just says "childhood."
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